


In Dean's Shadow

by tyranusfan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28020573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyranusfan/pseuds/tyranusfan
Summary: Dean Winchester's life and death cast a long shadow
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Jr. (Supernatural: Carry On)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	In Dean's Shadow

_Special thanks to K Hanna Korossy for help with the argument segment._   
_Thanks to geminigrl11._   
_It occurred to me while writing this that while the four post 15x20 stories I’ve written weren’t meant to be a series, they do hang together as one._

“Come here, let me look at you.”

Sam blinked, the words instantly transporting him back to a dark barn in Ohio and the worst night of his life. _Come here, lemme look at you…._

Blinking again, he was back in the small dressing room. Adam finished adjusting Sam’s tie, then glanced up at him, instantly noticing the change. 

“I’m sorry.”

Sam shook his head. “For what?”

“I know I’m not the one you wanted here as best man.”

The words cut deeply. Sam shook his head again, this time suppressing a pang of guilt. He placed his hands on his younger brother’s shoulders. “Adam, no. That’s not…I don’t regret choosing you for a _minute_. It’s just…I just miss him, that’s all.”

He and Dean had found Adam a few days after Jack had undone Chuck’s Rapture. He’d been squatting in a small abandoned house with Michael when it happened, and had reappeared completely alone and panic-stricken. He and Michael had been joined at the hip for centuries—at least in Hell time—and the archangel’s sudden absence had hit Adam hard.

They’d helped him get on his feet, though he had declined joining them in the Bunker. Eventually, he’d settled in Springfield, and become an EMT. Not quite the doctor he had envisioned, once upon a life, but it was satisfying, and about all he could manage given that he’d been dead for over a decade. They’d cobbled together a believable cover story about being in the Witness Protection Program, and helped Adam out financially until he’d gotten settled in, over his strenuous objections, but Dean wouldn’t take no for an answer.

After Dean died, Sam had roamed for a while, until finding a new life, ironically just one town over from his younger brother. They’d grown closer over the years following, finding common ground in their grief.

Adam offered him a sad smile. “He’d love this, I’m sure of it.”

Sam laughed weakly. “Yeah. He’d tell me not to screw it up.”

Putting on a serious face, Adam took Sam by the shoulders. His voice even moved down a register. “Sammy? Don’t screw it up.”

Sam smiled sardonically. “Thank you.”

The music started outside, and Sam was struck with a mild feeling of panic. The idea that he might screw all this up felt very real to him. Adam seemed to read his distress. “You’ll do just fine. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t believe in you. I’m going to go get in line.”

Before he reached the door, Sam called out. “You have the rings, right?”

Adam’s face fell and he started searching his pockets. “Oh…oh, man….”

“Adam!”

“I’m kidding!” Adam laughed. “Get a grip, brother.”

Sam felt the absence even stronger once Adam had exited. Glancing around the room, he slowly reached over and pressed his thumb into his left palm, hard, and closed his eyes. It was almost surprising when he opened them and found himself still in the same room. Nothing had changed. 

_I guess it’s real_. Sighing softly, he squared his shoulders as he headed for the door. _Here goes nothing_.

**SPN SPN SPN**

“Dad?”

“Hmm?” Sam didn’t look up from his book, trying to get to the end of the chapter. Serial Killers of the 19th Century had turned out to be quite a page turner, he was happy he’d bought it.

“Um…my birthday is next week.”

“Mm-hmm,” Sam nodded.

“I’ll be sixteen.”

“Yeah, last I heard.” Sam hid a smile. Dean was going to love the gift he was getting. It was currently hiding in Adam’s garage, out of sight.

“Have you thought about what we talked about?”

Sam looked up, finding Dean sitting on the coffee table in front of him, wringing his hands nervously. He narrowed his eyes. “Remind me.”

Dean looked like he desperately wanted to roll his eyes, but was resisting. “Dad! We talked about me getting a tattoo.”

“Oh,” Sam tilted his head. “You…still want one?” He thought the fad had passed. Dean hadn’t brought it up in months. When his son nodded, Sam’s expression crumpled. “You don’t want one of those weird double infinity symbols everyone’s getting, do you?”

Dean laughed. “Dad, it’s a Double Eight. Like the band?”

Sam frowned, not having any idea what band Dean was talking about. “Oh. Okay.”

“You have _got_ to update your music collection, Dad.”

“I know, I know,” Sam held up his hands in surrender. “Anyway, what tattoo are you wanting to get?”

Dean bit his lip, suddenly looking a lot less confident for some reason. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a faded piece of paper. Eyeing Sam cautiously, he unfolded it. Sam raised his eyebrows. 

“That’s….”

“Yeah,” Dean said, holding up the drawing of the anti-possession tattoo that Sam kept in his journal. “The family business.”

Sam hesitated. He’d kept Dean at arm’s length from the hunting world. He didn’t want his son exposed to the pain and loss that he’d been, so he’d tried to find a happy medium of teaching Dean about all of it, but making sure he had nothing to do with it in practice. The only exception had been the anti-possession amulet he’d given Dean when he was five, and he’d worn around his neck ever since on a chain. It had been the only way Sam could let his son out of his sight when he started school. 

Dean apparently took Sam’s surprised silence the wrong way. He pulled the paper back and started to stand. “I, uh, I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t….”

“Hey,” Sam reached out, halting him. “Hey, no. I…I’m just surprised. Why do you want that?”

“Well, I…um….” Dean trailed off, looking mortified. 

Sam felt a moment of parental panic. Was Dean wanting to hunt? Had his attempt to merely educate Dean backfired? He reached over and placed his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Look at me.”

Dean obeyed, hesitantly making eye contact. Sam watched him intently. “I want you to tell me the truth. Okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why that one?”

“I just…I know how much it means to you. I remember how you told me about the day you and my uncle got them. I just…want to honor that. Him.” Dean blushed with embarrassment, and looked like he wanted to curl up and hide.

Sam smiled softly. “I think it’s perfect.”

Dean lit up. “Really?”

“Really.”

**SPN SPN SPN**

“What were you thinking?” Sam demanded angrily, then corrected himself. “No, don’t answer that. I _know_ what you were thinking. I can’t believe you were so reckless.”

Dean appeared chastened, but his tone was defiant. “I wasn’t ‘reckless.’ The guy was threatening her. What was I supposed to do? Look the other way?”

“And when you saw he had a knife, what did you do? You charged in anyway!”

“No, I didn’t!” Dean shouted, flinching when he pulled against the stitches. 

Adam grabbed his arm to stop him from standing. “Hey. Sit still.”

“No, I didn’t,” Dean repeated more calmly. “When he turned on me, I backed off and I called the police. It was the other two guys that jumped him.”

“And somehow you got stabbed!” Sam shouted. His son didn’t seem to get it. He glanced at Adam, who was stitching up the wound between Dean’s shoulder blades, but studiously avoiding Sam’s eyes. _Almost the same spot…._ Sam tried unsuccessfully to force the image of his brother from his mind.

“Getting Gina out of there!” Dean protested. “And I wasn’t ‘stabbed,’ it was a damned broken bottle some guy grabbed when the fight broke out. I wasn’t _in_ the fight, I was trying to get _out_ of it. I’m not him, Dad!”

That brought Sam up short. “What?”

“I’m not my uncle,” Dean said slowly, almost contemptuously. “I didn’t wade into some fight and get hurt. I tried to help, and then I tried to keep my friend from getting hurt. Which, by the way, Dad, is exactly what _you_ would have done.”

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again. What could he say to that?

“All done.” Adam announced, breaking the silence. He patted Dean on the shoulder. “Don’t move around too much. I’ll come back and check it tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Uncle Adam,” Dean said sullenly. “I’m just going to go to bed.”

“Lay on your stomach.” Adam suggested.

Before Dean made it to the hallway, Sam called out. “Dean, wait. Listen, I’m not…I’m not comparing you to—”

“Yes, you are.” Dean cut him off. He walked toward his room without another word. The sound of the bedroom door slamming ended the conversation.

“He’s got the Winchester temper,” Adam said with a smirk.

Sam’s head was spinning. He wasn’t comparing his son to his brother. They were very different people, despite sharing the name. He knew that. It was just….

“He’s not wrong, you know?” Adam murmured, packing up his first aid supplies. “You keep treating him like he’s our brother, but he isn’t.”

“I don’t treat him like…” Sam replied, feeling betrayed. “He got hurt. He was almost ki—”

“He was grazed by broken glass.” Adam corrected him sternly. “It’ll heal before he knows it. At worst, showering is going to hurt for a few days. From the story he told, it sounds like he was lucky. And, he was only protecting a girl that, in case you missed this detail, he’s obviously crazy about.”

Sam replayed the argument in his head, and realized he _had_ missed that part. He pinched the bridge of his nose, raw fear sinking in now that his initial anger was dissipating. “I don’t mean to…I just don’t want anything to happen to him. He’s all I’ve got.”

“I know that,” Adam said. “ _He_ knows that. And, I know exactly the image that’s been running through your head all night. But this isn’t the same thing. Have you ever told Dean how that story ended?”

Sam shook his head silently. 

“Maybe you should. And maybe you should tell him he did a good thing tonight, because right now all he sees is his dad being an uncompromising jerk.”

Sam blinked at that, his memory flashing back to countless arguments with his own father. He looked down the hallway, then back at his younger brother. “Maybe you’re right. Thanks. And, thank you for coming over, I know it’s late.”

“No problem,” Adam said, stifling a yawn. “I don’t mind saving you a few hours in the ER when I can.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “Dean hates hospitals. Ever since his mom….”

“I get it.” Adam said, holding up a hand. “It’s all right. I’m working the late shift this week, anyway. I don’t go in ‘til four tomorrow.”

“Hey, crash here tonight. You can stay in the guest room.” When Adam started to shake his head, Sam insisted. “It’s late, and your eyes bother you driving at night. Stay.”

Adam feigned offense, gesturing at Sam’s glasses. “Speak for yourself, Four Eyes.” He yawned again. “But, maybe you have a point. I’ll, uh, get my bag from the car.”

Sam watched him step out to the driveway, then glanced back down the hall. Maybe Adam was right. Maybe he was holding his son to an impossible standard. He both _was_ and _wasn’t_ Dean. He was a brave kid, and he always tried to do the right thing. It was just bad luck that the right thing this time got him hurt.

He walked down the hall, stopping in front of Dean’s door. After a moment’s hesitation, he knocked. “Dean?”

When there was no answer, Sam slowly turned the knob and opened the door. Dean was lying on his bed, face buried in a pillow. Sam bit his lip, not knowing if he was going to be rebuffed. Dean was curiously like his uncle in one way: he wore his heart on his sleeve when he was trying to help someone else, but he was frustratingly closed-mouthed about his own feelings.

_Actually, that sounds a lot like you_. A voice whispered accusingly in Sam’s head. 

“What?” Dean half-growled, not picking up his head. His temper was another matter, but Sam didn’t dare wonder who he got _that_ from.

Smiling to himself, Sam quietly moved to sit on the side of the bed. “Are you okay?”

There was a moment of silence, before Dean replied curtly. “My back hurts.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, taking a deep breath. _Tell him_. “Um, the night your uncle…the night he died, we were in a fight. A bad one.”

Dean’s head turned slightly, but he wasn’t looking up, yet. Sam plowed on before he lost his nerve. He’d never told his son the full version of this story. “For a little while, I didn’t know if either of us were going to get out alive. But, uh…but we turned it around, and we won. I thought we’d won. Your uncle Dean, he…um…he got impaled, through the back.” He reached over and touched his son on the back, a mere fraction of an inch below the bandage. “Right here. He, um…there wasn’t time to call an ambulance. He didn’t last five minutes.”

That made Dean turn his head to look at him. “You never told me that.”

Sam nodded, biting his lip to keep it from trembling. “After your mother died, I…I stopped telling you these stories of mine. I just…couldn’t, anymore. When I saw you come through the door tonight, and all the blood….” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay.”

He started to stand, but Dean reached out and wrapped his hand around Sam’s. “Dad—”

“You did the right thing.” Sam said, lowering himself back onto the mattress, and feeling every year of his age. “I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat about it.”

Dean rolled over, wincing as he came to rest on his side. “Ow. I didn’t know doing the right thing was supposed to hurt this much.”

Sam chuckled, intertwining his fingers with his son’s. “Yeah, big guy, I’m afraid that comes with the territory.”

“I couldn’t just stand there, Dad. I—”

“I know.” Sam said softly. “Believe me. I know.” When Dean winced again, he arched an eyebrow. “You want a drink? Nothing chases painkillers like scotch.”

Dean frowned, looking up at him like he’d turned into a completely different person. “I’m not sure that’s medically…whatever, I’m only nineteen, Dad.”

Sam glanced up thoughtfully, searching his memory. “I had my first shot of scotch when I was…fifteen.”

“What?!” Dean looked shocked.

Smiling fondly, Sam shrugged. “I got beat up after school one day, and your uncle wanted to make me feel better. Dad was… _furious_. But, I do think it helped.”

Dean shook his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

Sam tugged on his arm. “Come on. I’ll pour you a drink. _One_ drink. Then you can tell me all about this Gina….”

Dean rolled his eyes. “ _Dad_.”

**SPN SPN SPN**

“You sure this is okay?” Gina asked for the third time.

Dean smiled as he searched for his house keys. “It’s fine. Dad loves it when I bring you over.”

“I don’t usually stay for an entire weekend.”

Dean shrugged, but stayed silent.

“You did tell him about that part, didn’t you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Dean.”

“He’ll be fine with it!” Dean said, finally digging his keys out of his duffle.

“Dean! You didn’t tell him?”

“I…no.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You told him _you_ were coming home, right?”

He unlocked the door. “I ran out of time.”

She looked skyward. “Oh, my god.”

“What’s the problem? I told you, Dad likes you.”

“Okay, but he might not like unexpected house guests.”

Dean waved that off. “Nah. It’s fine. You can stay in the guest room.” He grinned, reaching out to pull her closer for a kiss. “Or, you know, maybe my room.”

Gina placed her hand firmly on Dean’s chest and pushed him back, smirking. “Uh, yeah, _no_. I’ve seen the stuff your dad keeps in the basement, and I am _not_ getting on his bad side.”

Waving that off as well, Dean pushed the door open and lugged their bags inside. He looked around the empty living room. “Dad? It’s me!”

There was no answer. Dean frowned. “Dad, you home?” That was a stupid question, his dad’s car was in the driveway.

“Maybe he’s asleep.” Gina offered. 

“Nah,” Dean muttered. “Dad’s eleven to six every night. You can set your watch by him.”

He looked around the house, but his dad was nowhere to be found. Dean frowned again, glancing at the clock and the digital calendar on the wall by the fridge. Then it hit him. “What’s the date, today?”

The calendar lit up. “ _Today is Friday, January 24th, 20—_ ”

“Oh!” Dean exclaimed, running his hands through his hair. “Oh, no.”

“What?” Gina asked. 

Dean looked at her apologetically. “I…I just figured out where…sorry. Wait here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

He walked through the kitchen and exited out the back door. Jogging around the corner of the house, he saw the garage door open. _Yeah_.

Approaching slowly, he looked through the open door. Sure enough, his dad was sitting in the driver’s seat of the old Impala, hands grasping the steering wheel. The engine wasn’t running, but Dean knew his dad kept it tuned up, religiously.

He moved along the side of the car, finally catching sight of his dad’s face, which was wet with tears. Dean’s heart sank. He hated seeing his dad cry. Always had. He reached out to knock on the window, softly so as not to startle him. 

Sam turned his head, surprised, his eyes widening when he saw his son. He opened the creaky driver’s door. “Dean!”

“Hey, dad. I’m so sorry. I should have called ahead.”

His father shook his head, putting his glasses back on and pushing his silvering hair behind his ears. “No, no, no. You never have to call ahead. I’m happy to see you.”

He swiveled to pull himself out of the car, moving slowly. _His legs must be bothering him again_. Dean knelt down, placing his hands on his dad’s knees, blocking his exit. “Dad…are you okay?” 

Sam put on an obviously forced smile. “I’m fine. Great, now that you’re home.” He patted the car door gently. “I was just…I was just remembering.”

Dean hated the look he saw in his father’s eyes at times like this. “Dad, I wish you’d think about what we talked about. I can find you a place close to the campus—”

“Dean….”

He pressed on. “I don’t get home that much, and ever since Uncle Adam passed away you’re all alone out here, Dad.”

Sam smiled, that faraway look returning as he ran his hand along the door. “I’m never alone.” He turned his attention back to Dean. “And you need to live your own life, not worry about your old man all the time.”

He pushed himself to his feet carefully, and pulled Dean into a hug. “Glad you’re home, kiddo. What’s the occasion?”

Dean smiled, returning the embrace. “Robbie’s flying in, I’m picking him up at the airport tomorrow. And, I figured I’d come see you while I was in town.”

Sam smiled. “Oh? Well, it’s my lucky weekend! Did Robbie finally get discharged? I know you’ve been worried about him.”

“Yeah, he decided not to re-up. I think what he saw over there changed his mind.”

“Mmm,” Sam hooked his arm around Dean’s shoulders and they walked toward the back door. “I’m sure it did. It was a bad one. I told you that your grandfather fought in Vietnam, right? I don’t think he ever got over it.”

“Well, I hope he’ll be all right,” Dean said. “Oh, and uh, I brought Gina with me. I hope that’s okay.”

His father brightened. “That’s great! Have you popped the question yet?” He didn’t give Dean time to respond. “You should. And I’m not just saying that because I want grandchildren.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “We’re not even close to ready for that.”

His dad leaned over, whispering conspiratorially. “Don’t worry, she can sleep in your room.”

Dean blushed. “ _God_ , Dad, stop!”

**SPN SPN SPN**

Dean looked up as Doctor Hubbard entered the dining room from the den. “Doc? What do you think?”

Hubbard looked up at him a moment, but then averted his eyes. They’d known each other as long as Dean could remember. Everyone in the family went to him. But, Dean had never seen him look so somber. 

“Dean…I....”

“What?” Dean asked, not comprehending the doctor’s hesitation. “Has he gotten worse? Do we need to take him to the hospital?”

That was the last thing Dean wanted. Ever since his mom had died, he’d avoided hospitals. But, if it would help….

“Dean,” Hubbard shook his head. “The hospital can’t help, at this point.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “What are saying?”

Hubbard took a deep breath, then blew it out. “The painkillers have stopped working. Your father’s oxygen levels are dropping, again. To be perfectly honest…I’m surprised he’s….” Meeting Dean’s eyes, he smiled. “Your father saved my life once. Did he tell you that?”

Dean shook his head, only half-listening. His world was spinning.

“There were some _weird_ things going on, the kind of stuff you have to see to believe. Then, Sam and his brother rolled into town. They were probably your age, maybe younger then. Man, they argued like an old married couple, but when they were saving people, that’s when you saw it. They were two halves of the same person. They saved me, my sister, and two of her friends. Made it look easy.”

Dean just nodded, not really listening. He was focused on his father lying in the next room. Every beep of the monitors seemed deafening. 

“I didn’t see your dad again for years. He didn’t even remember me when he settled down here, but I knew what had happened the moment I saw him. His brother’s death just…hollowed him out. But, after a while, he met your mother, and then you came along, and he changed. Actually seemed happy again.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Dean said quietly. “That’s what you’re telling me.”

“No,” Hubbard replied. “I’m afraid not.”

Dean’s vision blurred. Logically, he’d known this was coming for months. But, the knowledge didn’t make this moment any easier. “How…how, um, how long?”

Hubbard shook his head. “Could be any time.”

“Is he suffering?”

The doctor paused, but then nodded. “Yes. Though you’d never get him to admit it. Your father is the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”

“What…what can I do?” Dean asked, voice breaking. “Tell me what I can do.”

Hubbard placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you what you don’t want to hear. Let him go. Tell him he can stop fighting.”

“I’m not sure I can do that.”

“You’re the only one who can,” Hubbard said. “You’re the only one he’s worried about, now. Let him…let him go to his brother.” He picked up his bag. “I’ll be outside. Call me when you need me.”

Dean looked from his father’s bed to Hubbard and back. He didn’t know if he could do what the doctor was asking of him. He had no idea what he should say. His father hadn’t been able to speak for two days, but he could hear.

He thought about all the stories his dad had told him. Honestly, Dean wasn’t sure he believed most of them, but he knew his dad did. One, in particular, floated to the surface. A dark barn, and his uncle’s final moments. His father had only told that story in its entirety once, and then only after a whole bottle of scotch. _I need you to tell me it’s okay_.

Dean took a deep, shaky breath, and tried to steady himself. He needed to be strong for his father. He walked into the den.

**END**


End file.
